The Inconvenience of Sleep
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Rogue One Universe AKA: Five Time Someone Told Bodhi to Go The F*ck to Sleep. AU in which the ending happened but didn't happen, savvy? Mentions of Chirrut/Baze and slight Bodhi/Cassian if you squint (because I'm trash)


**Hello all! So I've seen this movie twice now and honestly I want nothing more than to bundle Bodhi up in a blanket and protect him from the world. My poor jittery space son... This was written in response to a prompt over on the DW prompt meme and, even though I love Star Wars, this is the first time I've ever delved into this universe so any corrections or mistakes please feel free to (kindly!) let me know in the comments! Also I'm still violently crying over Carrie Fisher because 2016 has been a complete dumpster fire of a year. Seriously, 2016 is just a bag of dicks. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!**

 **A/N: I own nothing =/**

* * *

"When was the last time you slept?"

The question takes him by surprise and he looks up from the console he's working on. "What?"

Jyn drops into a crouch beside him and levels her gaze. "I said when was the last time you slept? You look terrible."

Bodhi offers a half-smirk. "Kind of you," he mumbles, attention flickering back to what he had been working on a few minutes earlier. It seemed like everything had been kicked into hyperdrive since the Battle of Scarif. The Rebellion was busy planning its next assault and Bodhi had barely been cleared from the medical wing before he was given a new task to complete.

With the plans and schematics of the Death Star transmitted and spread to their allies across the galaxy, an influx of rebel fighters and new recruits had become available to help them in their fight. Bodhi found himself in charge of cataloguing the ships and vessels that had come to their aid, taking inventory of their arsenal and weapons as well. It's a slow, time-consuming task but one that's vital to the success of future missions and one he can't afford to take lightly. Finishing this inventory will give the Rebellion a better idea of the kind of firepower they have against the Empire's war machine.

He's not entirely sure how long he's been down here, tucked away in a corner while hunched over the tablet in his hand. He remembers speaking to maybe one or two other generals earlier in the day but he can't recall how long ago that was. A few hours? Several hours? He's not sure. What he does know is that his shoulders have started to cramp up from the way he's been holding himself and his left foot is going numb.

Jyn makes a tiny sound beside him, somewhere between a cough and clearing her throat, and her eyes are still leveled on him, waiting for an answer.

Bodhi opens his mouth to reply but stop when he realizes that huh, he doesn't really know how long it's been since he slept last. He knows he was in a medically induced coma for an entire week following their escape from Scarif, the extent of his injuries leaving him unconscious and floating in a bacta tank while his body healed. The medical team cleared him for duty about five days ago and he's pretty sure he's slept since then. It's a bit disconcerting that he can't remember but they told him that memory problems can sometimes be a byproduct of the injuries he sustained and that it should clear up on its own.

He frowns and thinks a bit harder. It couldn't have been too long ago, a day or two at most. He can't recall the exact day or how long it was but he knows, logically, he must have slept at some point in the recent past.

Jyn's not leaving without an answer though and "I'm not sure, a few days ago?" is likely to leave her considerably less impressed.

"I slept the other night," he answers finally, vaguely.

Jyn quirks an eyebrow. "The other night, hmm?" she asks, her voice light and sing-songy with a touch of disbelief. "Which other night?"

Bodhi grumbles quietly in frustration. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because we all nearly died a two weeks ago and I don't think working yourself to the point of exhaustion is going to help with your recovery," Jyn tells him, her eyes flickering over him as she speaks.

"I know this is important," she continues, nodding to the console in his lap. "But you're important to us too. And sleep deprivation combined with exhaustion leads to mistakes that we can't afford to make."

The pilot feels a brief flicker of indignation at the comment. "I'm not making mistakes."

Undeterred, Jyn leans forward and touches the tip of her finger to a section of names on the console Bodhi had been working on. "You've listed Admiral Goertz and his fleet twice," she says simply, her finger resting between two identicals names with two identical fleets.

Bodhi stares at her finger and the names for several seconds, not catching it at first and wondering what she's talking about. When he finally does see it, the revelation is strong enough to make his stomach drop. Listing Goertz twice doubled his arsenal calculations and put them much further ahead than they actually were. He'd been in such a daze for the past few hours that he hadn't even realized he'd done it.

The pilot growls in irritation and resists the urge to fling the tablet across the room. He settles with a string of ugly curses instead. If he'd already made one error there could be more. There could be dozens. He needs to go back through all the files he's been working on to make sure the numbers are correct and-

"Bodhi," Jyn says, her voice soft yet surprisingly loud in the silence of the room. It occurs to him, rather suddenly, that he and Jyn are the only ones in the room. He looks around, frowning at the realization. He could have sworn there were other people in here earlier…

"I think you should take a break for a while and get some sleep," Jyn continues, her words surprisingly gentle as she speaks. "It's late and you've been working on this all day. I'm sure getting a few hours of sleep won't hurt."

Bodhi hears her but for some reason he's having a hard time making sense of the words. He understands them and knows what they mean but he can't bring his sleep-deprived brain to comprehend them. "I can't stop until I'm done," he tells her quietly and his voice sounds dull and hollow even in his own ears. "I'm not allowed to sleep until I've finished this."

Jyn frowns then, her eyes narrowing. "Who told you that?" she asks, her voice taking on a slightly protective tone. Jyn wasn't close to many people but she had gotten close to him and the rest of their team over the past few weeks and the idea of someone harassing Bodhi put her on edge. She was protective of him, of all of them, and if there was even the suggestion that someone had threatened her friends then she would go for the throat without a second thought.

When Bodhi doesn't answer immediately, she leans down and touches her fingers to his hand lightly. "Bodhi, who told you you weren't allowed to sleep until you finished this?"

The pilot thinks for a moment before shaking his head in defeat. No one had told him that, no one here at least. It was carry over from his time with the Empire, the silent understanding that rest and sleep only came when an assignment was completed. He had fallen asleep on an assignment once, when he was much younger and couldn't stave of exhaustion any longer. The punishment had been severe and he learned then and there that the mission came before everything else. It became easier to ignore his fatigue and simply push through it after that. It's hard to succumb to sleep when there's a job to be done.

"No one," he says after a moment, his voice sounding a little lost in his own ears. "It's just...something I'm used to."

Jyn seems to understand without any further explanation and sits back a little to give him some space. "Bodhi," she starts again, keeping her voice low and even as she speaks. "No one here is going to force you to work yourself to death on this file. I'm sure they would much rather have you well rested and accurate than sleep deprived and miscalculating."

Bodhi nods slightly in response. He knows she's right, that accuracy and correction are paramount to their cause, but he time is also a factor and he feels like he's running out of it.

Jyn nudges his shoulder gently with her knee and nods down toward the tablet in his lap. "We still have time," she tells him, almost as if she can hear his thoughts. Maybe he's just that easy to read. "Go get some sleep; everyone else left hours ago. They're not expecting you to finish this by tomorrow."

Bodhi hesitates briefly, glancing back down at the console. The long list of names and available artillery is starting to make his eyes hurt. He sighs and raises his hand to his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose to ward off the beginnings of a headache. "I need to finish this," he mumbles but he sounds resigned and tired even as he says it.

"And you will," Jyn assures him, plucking the tablet from his hand and powering down the program deftly. "Just not tonight." She hands the tablet back to him and motions for him to stand and follow her. "Your health is just as important as our plans. Besides, mistakes are easier to see with fresh, well-rested eyes."

Bodhi knows she won't give up until he obeys so he just follows her out of the room wordlessly. It's only when he's actually up and walking that he begins to feel just how tired he really is. His muscles are stiff, his joints pop, and he feels like his gait is rigid and jerky. He hadn't realized just how long he had been sitting until he stood up.

Jyn leads him down one of the hallways to the nearest sleeping quarters and passes a card through one of the panels lining the door. The door slides open to reveal a quiet, dark room with a single bed and a few shelves. It's clear the room hasn't been used in a while but that's hardly the issue right now; a room with a bed is a room with a bed.

"Try to get some sleep," Jyn tells him, snagging the tablet from him once more and slipping it into her pocket. "I'll keep this safe for you until morning."

Bodhi wants to protest but honestly, now that he's upright and vertical, all he can think about is sitting down again. His entire body aches from fatigue and he doesn't even try to fight it anymore. Jyn gently steers him into the room toward the bed and steps back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Bodhi shuffles over to the bed silently and drops down onto the mattress, collapsing onto his side and stretching out flat. He doesn't even take his boots off.

Names and lists and lines of data are still scrolling through his head endlessly but it's not enough to keep the heavy pull of sleep away. He closes his eyes, sighs, and falls in a deep, dreamless sleep.

 **OOOOO**

"You should get some rest, my friend."

Bodhi jumps, startled, and wheels around to face Chirrut. The blind man is sitting on the floor a few feet away, legs crossed beneath him and staff resting across his lap. Bodhi never heard him come in the room, never heard him sit down. He didn't even know he was there until just now.

"How long have you been sitting there?" he asks finally, that question being the only one he could form coherently at the the moment.

"Long enough to know that you need sleep," Chirrut tells him simply, a soft, benign smile crossing his face. "You've been muttering to yourself for the past half hour, you sound tired. I can hear it in your voice."

Bodhi's frown deepens a bit. Chirrut had been here for at least the past thirty minutes and he never knew it. It's disconcerting to say the least but he had been so caught up in his charts and calculations that he thinks a bomb could have gone off and he barely wouldn't have noticed until just now. Their time table had been moved up dramatically and the Rebellion's next strike was now only a few days away. That meant less time to make sure everything was correct, less time to make sure they had all their information. Less time to prepare for what could be salvation or suicide.

The meetings and briefings were all beginning to run together, bleeding from one table to another. Bodhi can't remember how many meetings he's attended in the past two days but he knows it's in the double digits. As a former Imperial pilot, he was required to attend every single one to answer questions about the Empire's capabilities.

Jyn was brought in too; her father was one of the chief engineers and his failsafe was the linchpin for their entire operation so it only seemed appropriate that she be present on his behalf. She had been whisked away from one meeting to the next as well and Bodhi hadn't seen her in several hours. Or maybe it was days. Once again, everything is beginning to run together.

"I appreciate your concern, Chirrut," he says after a moment, his voice sounding thin and wan as he speaks. "But I'm alright."

"You're stubborn and you're lying," the monk counters easily, that same benign smile on his face. There's no heat or accusation in his words, just mild amusement. He's recovered well over the past few weeks, broken bones mended and internal injuries healing. It truly was a miracle he survived at all; the blast had essentially pulverized half the bones in his body and had turned many of his organs into jelly. This was the first time Bodhi had seen him out of the medical wing and without Baze looming over his shoulder like a six foot tall shadow.

"But it's not my place to push you," Chirrut continues lightly. "I was merely making an observation. When a blind man can see that you're exhausted, maybe you should take his advice."

Bodhi sighs softly and nods, his shoulders slumping heavily. He had been pushing himself too hard again; Jyn had come down on him again a few days ago. He just gets so caught up and sidetracked when he's busy working on something that sleep usually becomes an inconvenience more than anything.

"You're right," he admits quietly after a moment, standing slowly and crossing the room, dropping down onto the ground beside the other man. "I'm so tired I can barely think straight but everytime I try to sleep I just keep thinking about all that's left to do, all the things that could go wrong…" he fades off and passes a hand through his limp, dirty hair. It occurs to him that on top of sleep deprivation, he hasn't had a decent shower in about three days.

"You worry too much about things that are much larger than your power to control," Chirrut tells him quietly, his pale, blue eyes fixed on the wall across the room. "The Force is on our side in this, it will carry us through. You just need to place your trust in it."

Bodhi smiles faintly and shakes his head. His eyes hurt and he can feel the muscles across the back of his neck throb with tension. "It must be nice to have that much faith," he says, offering a smile he knows Chirrut can't see. "I haven't placed my trust in much of anything in my life."

"You placed it in Galen," the monk counters smoothly, inclining his head slightly toward the pilot. "And you placed it in us. Putting a little faith in the Force and the cause we are all fighting for could help alleviate some of your concerns. It might even help you sleep better at night."

This causes another small smile, this one dull and mirthless. "I don't know about that."

Chirrut reaches out then and pats his knee lightly. "You treat sleep the way most men treat a predator: with wariness and hesitation. To me it seems you avoid is as often as you can. As tempting as this might seem, it will only serve to hurt you in the end."

Bodhi says nothing for several moments, his mind racing with the other man's words. It's true, he did treat sleep with the wariness of a man encountering a venomous reptile. Sleep, when he did allow it to come, was filled with nightmares and memories, dark images he wanted to forget. It never left him rested and relaxed; if anything he felt worse when he woke up. It made him fidgety and anxious and, if he's being completely honest with himself, Chirrut is absolutely right: he avoids it as much as he can.

"I don't have the best relationship with sleep," he admits quietly. "The life I've led and the things I've done," he shakes his head and looks at the floor. "There aren't many nights that I don't dream about it, that I don't have nightmares of my time with the Empire. I thought that maybe I could make up for it through Galen, that by helping him and figuring out how to defeat them I could help absolve myself of some of the things I've done."

He sighs heavily and rests his elbows on his knees. "Sleeping is just like watching an old playback of everything I've ever done, everything I was forced to do. I avoid it because even though I keep those memories with me during the day, they're even worse at night."

Chirrut nods slowly in understanding, his expression neutral. "And this fight we're undertaking now, the rebellion against the Empire. Does it keep you awake at night too?"

Bodhi lets out a quiet little chuckle and nods. "Oh absolutely. If anything it's worse because I know how close we are, how close the Empire is to falling. It keeps me awake but for a different reason. It's hope and excitement instead of remorse and regret. It makes thinking about anything else almost impossible."

"Then use that," Chirrut tells him simply.

Bodhi doesn't understand and frowns in confusion. "What?"

"Use that hope and excitement to drown out the remorse and regret that fills your dreams. Try to focus on what you're doing now instead of what you did then."

Chirrut offers him a soft, understanding smile. "There is no way to change the past, my friend, that much is certain, but you are helping to change the future and you should take comfort in that."

He reaches out and pats Bodhi's knee again. "We all must carry the burden of our past but we do not have to let it define us. Believe in what you are doing now, have faith in the Rebellion and the Force, and use that to help you absolve your past. Once you accept this, you will find it helps more than you know."

Bodhi almost smiles but it doesn't quite happen. "You really believe that, huh?"

Chirrut shrugs slightly. "I have no reason not to. I don't have all the answers but I do know that the universe works in mysterious ways and doesn't put us on a path without a purpose. One thing I have learned in my life is that it is never too late to change one's destiny. Your being here proves that."

The monk offers him another benign smile. "I don't need my sight to see that you are a good man, Bodhi. You may not believe it but it's true. The Force brought you to us and will continue to see you through if you allow it."

Bodhi does smile then, soft and faint. He doesn't know about the Force; he's never had any reason to put his faith or his trust in it. But he trusts Chirrut and if Chirrut believes in him then maybe he can return the favor by trusting in the Force too. "I'll see what I can do," he tells him earnestly.

Chirrut just nods in acceptance. "Good. Now see what you can do about getting some sleep. Force or not, you're going to be miserable if you don't get some rest."

The pilot chuckles softly. "Fair enough."

He stands slowly, reaching down and offering Chirrut his hand. The monk takes it and pulls himself up with the help of his staff, steadying himself before letting go. He still has a bit of a limp and long walks are still a test of endurance but he manages well enough.

Convincing himself that he's just making sure Chirrut gets to his room alright, Bodhi allows himself to be led out of the room and down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. It's quiet and dark and the peacefulness of the hall makes him feel heavy and sluggish as he walks.

He delivers Chirrut to the room he shares with Baze and waits until the monk disappears behind the door before stepping away. He briefly contemplates returning to the meeting hall to work on his calculations some more but a wide, jaw-popping yawn makes his reconsider.

Suddenly exhausted, he turns in the direction of his room and trudges back down the hall. The door slides open quietly and he steps into the empty room, ignoring the lights and walking over to the bed instead. Maybe his talk with Chirrut helped or maybe he was just so tired he couldn't think straight but Bodhi falls asleep a few seconds after he lays down. He thinks about the Rebellion and the resistance and he sleeps without dreaming about the Empire.

 **OOOOO**

"Time for bed."

Bodhi manages a startled little "oomph" as Baze catches him around the middle and slings him up over one shoulder. The larger man turns on his heel, away from the excited, nervous energy of the cumulated rebel fighters and pilots, and walks down the hall with Bodhi still draped over his shoulder.

The pilot struggles uselessly against the guardian's arm and quickly realizes that breaking free will be all but impossible. Baze is much larger and far more intimidating that Bodhi likes to admit and finding himself more or less at his mercy is just a little worrisome.

"Where are we going?" he asks finally, his voice a little wheezy from where his ribs are being squeezed against Baze's shoulder.

"I told you," the guardian grumbles back, never slowing his stride down the hallway. "It's time for bed. I've been tasked with delivering you to your sleeping quarters and ensuring you get a full night's sleep before the mission tomorrow. Apparently you can't be trusted to take care of yourself and need someone to step in and point you in the right direction. That's where I come in."

Bodhi feels a flush of indignation flare across his cheeks. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he snaps back, voice clipped and defensive. "And I'm also perfectly capable of walking on my own."

Baze chuckles, a dry, rumbling sound like a slumbering volcano. "You're also perfectly capable of running the second I put you down. My orders were to make sure you get to your room and get some rest even if that means dragging you there myself and barricading the door."

"Orders? Whose orders?"

"Chirrut," Baze replies, his voice softening ever so slightly. His relationship with the monk was one of those intensely private affairs that everyone knew about. Bodhi never asked about it partially because he already knew the answer and also because he knows Baze could snap him in half like a twig for the intrusion.

"He is concerned about you," the larger man continues gruffly. "So is Jyn. They both think you're not sleeping enough. Honestly I don't care but I knew I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't agree to their requests. That's why I'm here; not for you but for them."

The pilot opens his mouth to protest or argue or say _something_ but he never gets the chance as Baze carts him to the end of the hall and stops in front of Bodhi's room. He punches in the code (Bodhi's not sure how he got that), swipes a card through the reader (he's not sure how he got that either), and the door slides open softly. Once the room is open, Baze releases his charge and dumps him unceremoniously off his shoulder.

"There," he says as if speaking to an unseen audience. "You've been delivered. Now go to bed."

Bodhi stands defiantly in the doorway and glances back at the bed in his room like it's lined with broken glass. "I have more diagrams and files to complete before tomorrow's mission, I don't have time to sleep."

"I have no concern for your diagrams or files," Baze counters easily, crossing his arms over his chest. He looms over him like a mountain. "My orders were to make sure you go to sleep, not complete a series of tasks you deem more important than your own health."

"They _are_ important," Bodhi stresses, trying futilely to move toward the door only to have Baze block him bodily. "If I don't complete them tonight-"

"You'll complete them tomorrow," the guardian says, effectively cutting him off before he can continue. "You are assisting the rebel fighters on their mission tomorrow and you will need to be well rested and mentally focused if you are to be of any use to them. Neither of those things will occur if you continue to deprive yourself of sleep."

Baze plants his feet and keeps his arms crossed over his chest. "This is not up for debate. Sleep or don't, whatever you do in this room for the next eight hours is none of my concern. But I will make sure you stay here," he gives the pilot a grin that's not quite threatening but not quite friendly either. "If standing watch outside your door for the rest of the night means you'll stay in this room, I'm happy to comply."

Bodhi feels the muscles in his jaw clench and his eyes narrow slightly. "This feels familiar," he mutters icily. "It's been a long time since I had an armed guard stationed outside my door."

That comment is enough to break some of the hardness in Baze's expression and the guardian's shoulders slump just slightly. He doesn't move but for some reason he seems marginally less intimidating. Marginally.

"Listen," he says, voice still a low rumble but not longer as clipped and short when he speaks. "I don't know why you feel like this entire operation is your burden to bear or why you refuse to accept that we're all fighting for the same thing. I don't know why you're so intent on working yourself into exhaustion and an early grave or what you're trying to prove in doing so. But I do know that this," he says, gesturing up and down at Bodhi's entire body. "Is not helping."

Bodhi opens his mouth to respond but Baze keeps talking. "You must be sharp and mentally prepared for any challenge we might face tomorrow and you cannot do that if you're going on multiple days without sleep. Your body will shut down and you will be useless to everyone else. Killing yourself will not benefit our cause nor will it benefit you. You want to defeat the Empire, yes?"

Bodhi nods once, the gesture a little wobbly and sudden to the point where it makes his head feel heavy.

"Then stay alive to do so," Baze tells him sharply, voice gruff with irritation. "My initial distrust of you was no secret but you have proven yourself to be a valuable ally to the Rebellion and our team. I have lost many friends thanks to the Empire's tyranny but this is the first time I have ever gained one because of them. I refuse to sit by and let you get yourself or others killed because of your stubborn refusal to sleep."

Bodhi blinks in response, a little floored by the admission. It was true that he and Baze had not gotten along well in the beginning; the guardian didn't trust him, was convinced that he would eventually sell them out to the Empire, and was more than happy to drop him on the nearest desert planet and fly away, never looking back. That had changed since Scarif though, a lot had changed since then.

Baze was still gruff and intimidating, only showing his softer side to Chirrut and occasionally Jyn, but he no longer looked like he was ready to shoot Bodhi the moment he saw him anymore which was progress even in the smallest sense. They were teammates and rebels and that was about all they had in common but it bound them together. This was the first and probably only time Baze had ever referred to him as a friend and honestly Bodhi doesn't know what to do with it.

"That's...probably one of the nicest things you've ever said to me," the pilot mutters in a stunned sort of disbelief.

Baze rolls his eyes in response. "It will be the nicest thing I ever say to you again if you don't go to sleep," he grumbles back, pointing toward the bed at the back of the room. "Bed. Now."

Bodhi hesitates briefly, considers arguing or protesting again, and dismisses the idea quickly. As much as he may hate to admit it, Baze is right; he does need to sleep if he's going to be of any use to the rebels tomorrow. They had reached the zero hour and the plan of attack was imminent; in a few short hours the entire Rebellion would be facing off against the Empire.

In spite of his experience and skill as a pilot, Bodhi was grounded from the initial fight. They insisted that his knowledge of the Empire and their capabilities was too important to risk and as such he was stationed at the rebel base instead. He was part of the ground team, assigned to provide directions and instructions to the rebel fighters undertaking the assault. He had spent that past few weeks pouring over the plans and outlines, memorizing every inch of the Death Star's layout in order to give the Rebellion a better chance of success. Everyone understood the risks and what was at stake; there was no room for error, especially on his part.

He sighs heavily and nods, suddenly feeling worn down to the bone. The days of high anxiety, adrenaline, and stress were beginning to get to him; he aches down to his core. "Fine," he mumbles after another moment or so of silence. "I'll stay here and try to sleep if that will make you happy."

"Very," Baze replies with a satisfied nod.

"You'll wake me up if anything changes, yes?"

"You have my word," the guardian assures him, nodding toward the aforementioned bed once more. "Sleep."

And with that the door slides closed and locks softly, separating Bodhi from the hallway and Baze and everything else going on outside the door. He sighs and trudges over to the bed, kicking off his boots and slumping down onto the mattress. He doubts he'll be able to sleep, his mind is still too cluttered with plans and diagrams for the assault. His anxiety is high and his nerves are shot and he honestly doesn't know how anyone could sleep with everything else going on.

Still, he knows he should at least try so he stretches out along the mattress and stares up at the ceiling, mentally running through each step of the plan again. He gets to step three before the world dissolves around him and his mind goes blank.

 **OOOOO**

"You appear tired. Perhaps you should get some sleep."

"Ugh, not you too," Bodhi groans, slumping back against the seat and dropping his head back. They're currently docked in a holding terminal on the planet of L'outhas, waiting patiently for Cassian's return. It had been a little over three weeks since the Death Star's destruction and while the Empire had been severely crippled by the assault, they were far from defeated.

The success of the assault had gained the support of numerous new allies, however, and federations from all over the galaxy were now eager to help usher in the Empire's downfall. A flurry of conferences and meetings had been set up and the Rebel Alliance was intent on gathering as much help and support as they could.

The ragtag members of the Rogue One mission were seen as central to these talks and that's how they found themselves scattered across the galaxy in an attempt to garner support. Jyn, along with Chirrut and Baze, had stayed behind on Yavin 4 while Bodhi, Cassian, and the newly repaired K-2SO had been sent on a diplomatic mission to meet with the planetary senate of L'outhas to discuss their plans for alliance with the Rebellion.

It quickly became apparent, however, that in spite of their aid and involvement with the destruction of the Death Star, the senate did not trust Bodhi or K-2. An Imperial defector and a former Imperial droid were still seen as potential threats as far as the senate was concerned and no discussions would be held with them present. No matter how much cajoling or bargaining Cassian attempted, their answer remained fixed.

If a droid could feel outraged indignation, K-2 felt it enough for the both of them. Bodhi wasn't as bothered by it; he wasn't a very good public speaker anyway and sending someone like Cassian who had much more experience and finesse just seemed logical to him. Sure, his dismissal as little more than an Imperial defector stung a bit but he'd developed reasonably thick skin during his time with the Empire. He let it go; K-2 did not.

The irritable droid had griped for the better part of two hours, muttering an impressive string of snarky comments and acidic curses. Since his reconstruction, the droid seemed to have developed more of a human-like personality, a feature which may or may not have been planned during his repair.

The fact that he was able to be repaired at all was pure luck; by all accounts he should have been blown up with the rest of them on Scarif. Bodhi's memories of the final battle are still jumbled and hazy, cutting in and out unexpectedly. It had taken several weeks but he was able to piece together a few of the more prominent memories and rearrange them into some kind of chronological order.

He vaguely remembered the grenade thrown into the cargo hull and throwing himself down into a lower level of the ship a few seconds before the explosion. The concussive blast had tossed him around the room violently and there was a space of about a minute where he lost consciousness completely. He remembered waking up to fire and smoke and burning metal and scrambling to find an extinguisher. The ship had been severely damaged but not destroyed and with any luck at all, it might still be able to fly.

He had been in such a stage of shock and high adrenaline that he hadn't even realized he was bleeding and that his clothes were charred and smoking. His back was covered in burns and deep, bleeding gashes from broken glass and twisted metal. The burns spread across his shoulders and down one arm but he barely felt anything. Adrenaline is one hell of a painkiller when imminent destruction is on the line.

He didn't know where Jyn or Cassian were but he spotted Baze dragging himself and Chirrut across the cratered beach. The guardian was badly injured and bleeding but he kept walking with the equally injured, unconscious monk on his back. It was incredible that either of them were still alive and Bodhi had every intention of keeping it that way if he could help it. He staggered to the door of the cargo hold and managed to call out to them. It seemed like hours but it really only took a few seconds to get them loaded onto the ship, seconds before the laser blast from the Death Star struck the planet.

The ship shuddered and groaned and whined under the strain but Bodhi was able to get it off the ground and fly it toward the tower. He didn't know if Jyn or Cassian were even alive but he couldn't bring himself to leave without checking first. He spotted two small figures on the beach, a man and a woman, and he dropped down immediately.

It took less than a second for Jyn and Cassian to understand what was happening but in that moment they were already running and throwing themselves through the open cargo doors. Bodhi had just enough time to glance back and make sure his passengers were onboard before he pushed the ship into hyperdrive and they shot into space seconds before the beach was destroyed.

Everything went dark after that. He thinks he probably blacked out from his injuries because he doesn't remember anything else except waking up in a bacta tank a week later. The burns and shrapnel injuries had been severe and it took a solid week for his body to heal. Cassian had fractured his leg and Jyn was covered in her own fair share of scrapes and bruises but they healed well within a few days. Chirrut' and Baze's injuries had been much more severe and they both required more intensive medical intervention before they were on the mend. Incredibly though, they all survived what could have easily been a suicide mission and Bodhi really doesn't have an explanation for that level of luck.

He still doesn't know who found K-2 and dragged him onto the ship. He thinks he remembers a quick, fleeting glimpse of the droid's twisted, blaster marked body on the floor of the ship before he lost consciousness. All he does know is that in the week it took for him to heal and be released from medical, Cassian had painstakingly reassembled the droid back down to the sass. He was cleaned, buffed, recalibrated and repaired and now he was back and just as snippy as ever.

He's also far too perceptive for his own good and he's looking Bodhi up and down like he's analyzing him. "I was merely making an observation," the droid tells him, his tone of voice somewhere between defense and explanation. "The likelihood of us being confined to this ship for several more hours is remarkably high and there is no reason for you to remain awake for the duration."

The pilot mumbles something about nosey droids under his breath and slumps a bit further down into the seat. He is tired, exhausted really, but he can't bring himself to sleep, not yet. The journey to this planet had been nerve-wracking enough, having to fly through what had until three weeks ago been Imperial occupied space. He had been on edge and anxious the entire time, waiting for an ambush to shoot them out of the sky.

Their docking on this planet had done nothing to ease his concerns with their more-or-less imprisonment on the ship serving as an undeniable sign of distrust and suspicion. He can't sleep, not knowing that the entire senate still views the two of them as Imperial threats.

"I'm fine," he says after a moment, crossing his arms over his chest and propping his feet on the edge of the flight control panel. "I'll feel better once we leave here."

"Agreed," the droid replies, turning his attention back toward the front of the ship. "It is hard to find rest in a place we are not wanted."

Bodhi turns to him then, arms still crossed over his chest. "Does it really bother you that much?" he asks quietly. "That they don't trust us?"

The droid seems to consider this for a moment before answering. "It bothers me that they focus on the past instead of the present. I have been away for Empire for a long time, as have you. And yet our loyalties are still questioned and doubted. To them we will always be Imperials."

Bodhi shrugs one shoulder loosely. "Their anger and resentment is not unfounded. The Empire has caused immeasurable destruction and grief all throughout the galaxy; they just see us as an extension of that. They believe that by punishing us they will somehow punish the Empire. It's quite common, really."

K-2 looks back at him, glowing eyes level. "That's awfully fatalistic of you."

The pilot shrugs again. "I've been tied up with the Empire for longer than I can remember. Being fatalistic is one of the things I'm good at."

The droid turns away again with the mechanical equivalent of a huff. "It still doesn't change the fact that they treat us like Imperial spies when we were all nearly killed retrieving the plans to destroy the Death Star."

Bodhi nods once in agreement and slumps a little further into the chair. He can understand the droid's irritation; it becomes tiresome having to constantly defend oneself in front of others. Bodhi doesn't bother with it as much mostly because he just doesn't care. He knows about his past with the Empire and how that makes him look to the rest of the Rebellion. He also knows that he's not part of that anymore and will do everything in his power to ensure the Empire is destroyed. Galen Erso believed in him, trusted him with delivering his message, and that was all that mattered.

He knows where he stands and what he stands for and even if the rest of galaxy doubts him until his dying day, he knows he's at least done this right. His friends trusted him, they had his back and he had theirs, and until the day came where that was no longer an option, he couldn't ask for much more.

A comfortable silence falls between them in the cockpit of their ship. There's the dull clang and rumble of other smaller ships docked around them but for the most part the terminal is quiet.

Bodhi doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he startles himself awake when his head slips off the back of the seat. He jolts and sits up straight, instantly alert and blinking around the room. They haven't moved and nothing has changed; they're still docked and confined to their ship on an unfriendly planet. K-2 is still in the seat across from him, turned toward the expanse of the terminal stretching out in front of their window. Even though he's not looking at him, Bodhi can almost feel him watching from the corner of his eye.

"You let me fall asleep," he accuses, the little heat in his voice replaced with mild annoyance.

"You seemed like you needed it," K-2 replies nonchalantly with a flippant wave of his hand. "I had everything under control, don't worry. I'm more than capable of keeping watch over the ship and you for a few hours."

"A few hours?!" Bodhi nearly shouts, slightly panicked by the comment.

The droid turns to look at him, not understanding his reaction at first. "Oh, no," he says after a second, realizing the source of the pilot's panic. "You were only asleep for thirty-seven minutes. We will, however, be here for at least another five hours and I was merely saying that if you like to sleep longer I am more than capable of keeping an eye on things until you wake up."

Bodhi sighs and slumps back against the chair. He's not sure why the idea of a few hours of uninterrupted sleep bothers him so much but it does. Maybe it's this planet, maybe it's the fact that the Empire is still trying to figure out a way to destroy the Rebellion. Whatever the case, sleeping is not a priority for him.

"I appreciate the offer, K," he says, straightening in his chair a bit. "But I'll be fine until we leave. Besides, you'll get bored if you have no one to complain to up here."

K-2 watching him for a second before turning away. "Stubborn human."

"Nosey droid," Bodhi fires back but he settles in, rolls back his shoulders, and prepares for another five hours of droid sass.

 **OOOOO**

"Bodhi," Cassian's voice cuts through his thoughts and pulls him back to reality. He doesn't remember zoning out or how long he's been that way. He blinks owlishly at the dark expanse of space filling the window in front of him. It makes his eyes hurt.

Cassian is standing at the threshold of the cockpit, hanging on the wall like it's the only thing keeping him upright. He looks and sounds exhausted and, if he's honest with himself, Bodhi knows he probably doesn't look much better.

"Come on," the captain says, nodding toward the back of the ship. "Time for bed."

Bodhi hesitates for a moment, confused by the implications of the statement. "Sorry, what?"

"I said it's time for bed," the captain repeats simply, leaving the conversation at that. When the pilot doesn't move, he sighs and passes a hand over his eyes. "I'm tired and I know you're tired. We have a few hours before we reach our next destination and I plan on using those few hours to sleep so come on."

Bodhi shakes his head slightly, still confused. "This ship only has one bed."

"I know," Cassian says, leveling Bodhi with an exasperated look. "That's why we're going to share it. There's more than enough room and I know you need the rest as much as I do. Besides, you're starting to annoy K."

The pilot glances over toward his droid co-pilot for confirmation. The droid shrugs one shoulder and keeps facing forward. "You're breathing on everything."

Bodhi balks at the statement in disbelief. "You sellout-"

"Bodhi," Cassian says again, voice tinged with fatigue and exhausted annoyance. "I can count on one hand how many hours you've slept in the past three days and believe me when I say it's not enough. K is decent enough pilot but he's no substitute for the real thing."

"Uncalled for," the droid snaps.

Cassian ignores him. "You're no good to me if you're falling asleep at the controls. The success of these diplomatic missions is critical, yes, but the health and wellbeing of my team is more important to me. Your sleeping habits, or should I say lack thereof, are unhealthy and honestly it concerns me. I would rather it not come to this but if you won't sleep on your own volition I will have you confined to the nearest medical bay at our next stop and have them drug you into unconsciousness."

Bodhi balks again. "You wouldn't."

"I would," Cassian tells him sternly, the threat as real and solid as the flight controls in front of him. At Bodhi's horrified look, his expression softens a bit. "As I said, I would rather it not come to that. Get some sleep between now and then and it won't."

He nods toward the front of the ship and the droid sitting at the controls. "We'll be in Alliance occupied space for the next few hours and K is more than capable of flying the ship to our next destination. He'll let us know if he needs assistance."

K-2 turns to Bodhi then, silvery eyes locking onto his. "I won't need assistance."

It's the most blatant dismissal Bodhi can remember and from a droid no less. He sighs and shakes his head, pulling himself out of the pilot seat and stepping away from the controls. "You and I are going to have a talk about loyalty," he mutters as he passes the back-stabbing robot.

"Loyalty is objective in this sense," the droid tells him as he passes. "Cassian is concerned about your health, as am I. Now go away," K says, turning his attention back to the dark expanse of space spreading out in front of them.

The pilot grumbles something unflattering under his breath and follows Cassian away from the cockpit. The ship is small, a single passenger vessel compared to the cargo ships Bodhi is used to. It was fine for two humans and a droid but any other passengers and the ship would quickly become overcrowded. It was not designed for extended travel and thus only had the bare basics of amenities. There was a single bed toward the back of the ship, tucked away in a corner and shielded by a blackout curtain. Cassian stops in front of it and kicks off his boots.

"It might be a bit cramped but it'll do," Cassian tells him as he pulls back the curtain.

Bodhi watches him and frowns. "I can sleep on the floor if you-"

"You can sleep on the bed," the captain says, effectively cutting off his protest. He fixes Bodhi with a weary glare and nods toward the bed. "Come on."

The pilot hesitates for a moment, trying to come up with any excuse he can to avoid this outcome. It's not Cassian, it's the fact that he's a troubled sleeper and he _definitely_ doesn't sleep well with other people. The chances of him elbowing/smacking/punching Cassian in the face are remarkably high and honestly he just doesn't want to deal with that much uncertainty. If he could just figure out a way to politely-

"Bodhi," the captain says again, his voice clipped with the beginnings of impatience.

Bodhi sighs, resigns himself to this fate, and kicks off his boots. He brushes past Cassian and climbs onto the mattress, pressing himself as close the wall as he can. There's a small window about eye level with the bed and he finds himself focusing on that instead of Cassian sliding onto the mattress beside him. The curtain slides shut behind them and the small room instantly plunges into darkness save for the small amount of light filtering in through the window.

The room goes quiet for a while, long enough for Bodhi to become pretty sure that Cassian has fallen asleep behind him. He's trying to figure out a way to slip past him without waking him up when he hears the other man speak.

"You're not sleeping," the captain grumbles in fatigued irritation.

Bodhi curses internally and swallows. "It's difficult for me to sleep with someone else."

"From what I can gather," Cassian mumbles behind him. "It's difficult for you to sleep anywhere." He shifts and rolls onto his side to face the other man. "Is there a reason you're so invested in discovering the bare minimum amount of sleep a human body can survive on without succumbing to exhaustion?"

Bodhi rolls away from the window to face him. "It's a difficult habit to break," he answers somewhat bitterly. "The Empire didn't care about sleep, they cared about results. I had to learn the hard way that sleep ended with punishment and exhaustion ended with pain. It's pretty easy to keep yourself awake when you know those are your options."

He hears Cassian mumble a curse under his breath, something shockingly vulgar about the Empire, and then he sighs. "Well you're not with the Empire anymore," the captain tells him, reaching out and grabbing two fistfuls of the other man's shirt and pulling him close. Bodhi stiffens momentarily, not sure what to expect, and is somewhat surprised when the captain wraps both arms around him and holds him tightly against his chest. "And I'm going to start punishing you if you _don't_ get some sleep."

Well...that's a new threat. Bodhi shifts a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position, but Cassian's arms remain tight around him. He fidgets for a second or two more before finally giving up and just laying still. He thinks it should be uncomfortable sharing a bed like this, claustrophobic and confined, but for some reason it's not. It's almost...nice.

The room is quiet and dark and Cassian is warm and solid against him. His arms have loosened slightly but they remain wrapped around Bodhi's thin, wiry frame, holding him close. It's comforting, almost like being anchored to something, and it makes him feel safe and secure for the first time he can remember. Cassian's breathing is slow and even and Bodhi focuses on it, feeling himself beginning to drift.

"Close your eyes, Bodhi," Cassian tells him, his voice heavy and drawn with sleep.

For once Bodhi listens and allows his eyes to slip shut. He relaxes against Cassian, sighs quietly, and drifts off. It's the first time in a long time he's slept without dreaming. It's the first time in a long time he's felt safe enough to sleep through the night.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading guys! Also if you like trash blogs you should follow me on Tumblr: atlantisburning =p**


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